Lucy
by Anime-Addict-no-1
Summary: Based off the song Lucy by Skillet. France remembers the time he first met her and the times they went through. From her first war to her execution, he would always remember. Terrible summery is terrible.


**A/N: HIIIIII! When I heard the song "Lucy" (hence the title) it reminded me of France and Jeanne D'Arc. I love this pairing and it makes me sad to think about the fate of their relationship. I guess this is a songfic? I never really understood that but that's just what I think.**

**Song: Lucy by Skillet**

**I do not own Hetalia.**

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_'Excuse me sir but, please wake up! You'll catch a cold if you sleep out here!' He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of an angel. Her blonde hair was a just a tad bit shorter than his shoulder length hair with a white clip holding back a few strands of hair. When he looked closely he saw that she had eyes bluer than the sky and a sparkle in them. 'I don't want to be a bother but what are you doing here, sir?' Even her voice sounded like that of an angel's. It was like she was sent from heaven. 'I was trying to rest a bit with the war going on. When I came across this meadow, I thought it would be a good place to rest.' He replied. Her face was soon covered with a faint blush. 'Oh! I'm so sorry for interrupting your rest, sir. I didn't want to catch a cold is all. I'm very sorry.' He chuckled taking in her embarrassed state. In fact, he thought it was quite cute. 'Don't worry about it! You can repay me by telling me your name. I would like to know the name of the person who cares about my well being.' She smiled and said, "Jeanne! My name is Jeanne D'Arc!' Her happy nature was contagious and soon he found himself smiling as well. 'Well Jeanne, I'm Francis. I hope we get along well.' He held out his hand and she shook it with enthusiasm. 'I hope we can be great friends Francis!' At that moment he knew that she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But the love between a country and a human couldn't exist. It would just end in heartbreak._

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I woke up and felt another tear slide down my face. That memory. It was the first time I met Jeanne. The only woman I ever truly fell in love with. Sure I love everyone but I loved her as a man would. Every time she smiled, laughed, or got mad, I would wonder if she really was an angel sent from heaven. Soon I found myself telling her that I was the personification of France. She didn't seem to mind and seemed very happy. After all, her country _was_ France. For a while we were happy.

Then, one day she told me that God sent her a message. A message that told her to support King Charles IV and take back France from English Rule. 'I will fight for my country. I will fight for you _France_.' I begged, pleaded, her to think over her options. She could live in the village, own a shop, and be happy. She refused. 'I will be happy once this country has won the war.'

The next thing I know, Jeanne is fighting next to me. Settled on a horse, flag waving proudly behind her, no helmet so her enemies could see that she was a woman at war that wouldn't back down. She led the men with confidence, and kindness. She never killed them, she yelled at them. She never let them die of wounds, she treated them with the care only a woman could give. Soon, the first war was won thanks to her guidance and it earned her their trust. To celebrate, I made a picnic and we shared it at the meadow where we first met. I cooked her favorite foods, all simple French cuisines. We ate, laughed, and enjoyed each others' company. Then, she told me she received another message from God. She told me she was going back to war. I begged her again. I couldn't stand to lose her.

She won many wars but, alas, England found her. They tortured her, which in turn, tortured me. She was just a girl. She doesn't deserve this. I begged England to let her go, but he remained heartless and cruel. I watched her sign those papers, something amiss in the air, and watched them take her away as soon as she finished signing. When I looked at the papers, I couldn't believe it. England lied, those papers made her state that she was a witch and that her messages from God were fake.

I watched as they set up the wooden posts and roughly tie her to it. She looked calm as an angry mob yelled at her. I fell to my knees and could do nothing but watch as they set fire to the wooden stage set for her. It was strangely beautiful, her calm face as she burned, the fire surrounding her body looked like a battleground. I screamed, yelled, cried her name but no one cared that the girl they knew was burning for a crime she didn't commit. Once she died, they burned her two more times and scattered her ashes in the Seine. I couldn't give her a proper burial but I did the best I could do for her. Using one of her favorite dresses, a simple pure, white dress, I made her a grave.

For another 22 years I fought England. When the war was finally won I wanted to tell her. I wanted to run up to her, grab her by the waist, and swing her around. But she wasn't there. She will never be here again.

Every year I go to her grave with a dozen roses, her favorite, and placed it there for her. I sometimes wished that I never met her, and that if I never did I would never have to go through the pain every year. I wish I could make amends, but the roses I hold won't do me any good except remind me why I had them in the first place.

I would talk to her for hours about everything that happened the past year. Sometimes, when I talk to her, I can feel myself crying. I would fall to the grass and just... cry. For hours I would do nothing but sit there crying and talking and crying some more. Then, I would stand up and wipe away the leaves and grass. I would say 'Good-bye' and walk back.

Even if no one else will, I will remember her. Her name, her face, her smile, her angry expression, her pout, her blush, and the warmth she shared with me. I would give anything to show them what a beautiful woman she was. To show that little piece of heaven that I fell in love with.

At least she's back to where she came from. After all, she was an angel sent from heaven.

And me? I'll do my best. For me and for her sake.

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**A/N: Everytime I worked on this, I would listen to 'Lucy' and just write. FIRST, I listen to the Nightcore version so it may be a little different from what you listen to. Just depends. Awwwwwwwww, this pairing is SO sad and cute and SAD! /cries/**

**Please review!~**


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